


do we even begin to know each other?

by couldaughter



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreamsharing, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pre-Epilogue, Pre-Relationship, The Rituals Are Intricate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: Quynh tilted her head thoughtfully, smiling. Her eyes softened at the edges. “No, I suppose you don’t. I can’t help you, I’m afraid. It is nice to meet you, anyway.”“Nice to meet you too,” replied Nile, feeling strangely off balance. She dug her toes into the sand. “I’m Nile.” She offered a hand.With a slight gasp, Quynh took it and pulled sharply until Nile fell into her, Quynh’s arms wrapped tightly around Nile’s waist.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nile Freeman & Quynh | Noriko, Nile Freeman/Quynh | Noriko
Comments: 21
Kudos: 173





	do we even begin to know each other?

**Author's Note:**

> content warning: implied/referenced character death refers to nile being killed temporarily, as well at quynh's continual drowning

Looking back, Nile could accept that jumping on the bomb hadn’t been her best option at the time. But the best option for _her_ would have been to abandon Andy — mortal, stubborn-as-fuck Andy — bleeding on the floor and let that bomb take her out once and for all. That wasn’t a real option, obviously.

The sound of the explosion barely registered. Dying wasn’t something you got used to, but it was a feeling she recognised.

The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was the sky. She’d been in a warehouse the last she remembered, staring at multicoloured wires and listening to Andy moan in pain; now she was flat on her back, gazing up at a cloudless sky. 

She flexed her hands, trying to kickstart her circulation, and felt grains of sand rub against her fingertips.

“What the fuck,” she said, flatly, and rolled onto her side. 

Desert dunes stretched to the horizon, almost sparkling in the afternoon sun. Nile pressed her cheek into the sand and considered her options.

There was no oasis visible; the horizon was wavering in a way which suggested either concussion or mirage. Her hair was still braided the way she liked it. She was naked, which was honestly less of a concern than it probably should’ve been. And, now that she could focus a little more, she could just make out a figure in the distance.

She squinted, shading her eyes with her free hand. A figure in bright red, diaphanous robes, dramatically backlit by a sun which should, by all rights, be casting her shadow the opposite way.

Nile waved her free arm and set to struggling her way to her feet as Quynh — it could only be Quynh — walked towards her.

_This is a dream,_ thought Nile. _I’m dreaming._ It was nice to know that Andy and the others hadn’t abandoned her in the middle of the Gobi, especially considering that the warehouse bomb had been in Hong Kong, but it was still an unsettling thought. She didn’t usually have linear dreams.

“Hi,” she said, when Quynh got within speaking distance. She looked a lot more put together than she usually did in Nile’s dreams; that wasn’t difficult. Her robes were tightly belted at the waist over a long tunic, and her boots looked well-worn but comfortable. Her bow was slung across her back alongside a quiver filled with arrows.

Her face was less familiar. Joe had shown her a portrait of their lost sister, once, a sketch he’d drawn when he started to worry he’d forget her face. “Andy has her own copy,” he’d told her, quietly. They were in the National Portrait Gallery at the time, contemplating a photography exhibition while Nicky was talking to a mark in the Square. “Keeps it close to her heart.”

That sketch had been of Quynh in happier times, Nile knew, but it had captured something in the eyes that remained in this dream-vision. Something sharp and lethal, but not vicious. That same look was appraising Nile now. She resisted the urge to try and cover up. The Marines beat the modesty out of her early on; now she was just glad she’d kept her gym membership.

“Hello,” said Quynh, a long moment later. “Where are we?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Nile, glancing again at the dunes surrounding them. “I flunked out of Geography.” 

Quynh narrowed her eyes, confused, and took a step closer to Nile. She reached for her belt and unfastened it with ease, unwinding the long strip of cloth and shrugging out of her robe. The tunic and breeches beneath were a good look, Nicky thought. “Take this,” Quynh offered, holding the robe out with both hands. “I have no need of it. I am drowning, after all.”

Nile took the bundle and draped it around her shoulders. The weight of it felt off, somehow. “I know,” she said, clutching the front between unsteady fingers. “I’m sorry. We don’t know how to find you.”

That was true enough. The others may have claimed to have given up on finding Quynh centuries ago, but the truth, Nile found, was a little more complicated than that. It revealed itself in ancient newspaper clippings on shipwrecks and submarines; in the obsessive way Andy checked and rechecked the headlines each day; the fact that Copley had records going back fifty years of failed searches in the North Sea. 

They may have stopped searching, but they never stopped hoping for a miracle. 

Quynh tilted her head thoughtfully, smiling. Her eyes softened at the edges. “No, I suppose you don’t. I can’t help you, I’m afraid. It is nice to meet you, anyway.”

“Nice to meet you too,” replied Nile, feeling strangely off balance. She dug her toes into the sand. “I’m Nile.” She offered a hand.

With a slight gasp, Quynh took it and pulled sharply until Nile fell into her, Quynh’s arms wrapped tightly around Nile’s waist. Her chin rested on Nile’s shoulder. She could feel Quynh’s breath hot on the back of her neck.

The dunes wavered. Someone was shouting far away. Nile wound her arms around Quynh’s shoulders and held tight. This was something she could offer; she couldn’t imagine being alone for as long as Quynh had and not craving this kind of contact.

“I am Quynh,” said Quynh. She gasped again, breathless. “I dream of you.”

The shouting grew louder. Nile twisted her hands in linen and tried not to cry. “I dream of you too,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to help you. I want to help, more than anything.”

Andy couldn’t look at her when she woke from those dreams, breathing water. Joe and Nicky reached for each other. Booker called her whenever she asked and stayed on the line while she cried.

Quynh turned her head, brushing her lips against Nile’s cheek. “This helps,” she said thoughtfully. “It is nice that someone knows me alive.” Her breath ghosted over Nile’s skin.

“Is there — is there anything I can do? Anything I should say to the others? They miss you so much,” said Nile, feeling stupid and young as she said it. How could she put the longing in Andy’s eyes into words? It felt kind of pointless to try.

After a moment, Quynh nodded, her chin digging further into Nile’s shoulder. The cloth there was growing damp. “Tell them I miss them too. Nicolo, Yusuf, Andrea.” Her breath hitched. “And that I will find them, if they cannot find me.” Her voice was more distant, quieter and echoing.

Beneath Nile’s feet, the sand grew colder. “Something’s changing,” she said, unwilling to let go. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, somehow, and ice began to creep across the dunes as Nile closed her eyes. 

Quynh sobbed, once. Her body was cold too, Nile thought. The outline of the desert grew fainter as the noise grew louder, until Nile thought she might break apart from that alone. Pain washed over her in a tidal wave.

“Goodbye,” said Quynh, into the hollow of Nile’s throat. “Tell Andrea I will be with her soon.”

It felt like a promise. Nile didn’t know how Quynh could make it.

Between one moment and the next, Quynh was gone, and Nile was on her back again.

Nicky hovered over her, one hand gentle on her forehead and the other taking her pulse. She blinked up at him.

“Welcome back,” he said, warm as ever, the worry stretched thin beneath his eyes. “Andy is ready to kill you again for that stunt.”

“So long as she’s around to do it,” said Nile, automatically. She shivered, despite the warmth of Joe’s jacket across her chest. “Where — where are we?”

“Safehouse,” said Joe, as he knelt on her other side. “We got you out of that shithole as soon as we could safely move you.” He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself, and then took her hand. “You’ve taken fifty years from all our lives with that move, Freeman. Unbelievable.” He said it fondly, but his hand shook a little against hers.

She tried to smile back. She didn’t quite have feeling back everywhere; her toes were a foreign country. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said seriously. The feeling of Quynh’s breath lingered against her skin. “I, uh. I had a dream. While I was out.”

“You were in pieces,” said Nicky, looking somewhat distant. His forearms, Nile saw, were still spattered with blood. He must have been first on the scene. “I don’t know how you could have.”

“I saw Quynh,” she said, trying to conjure up the image again. It was fading a little, the way dreams often did, but there had been something new about it. Something she had a feeling meant more than even the usual immortal nightmare bullshit. “She hugged me. She said — she said she missed you.”

Nicky flinched. Joe frowned. “Dreams can say a lot of things, Nile,” he said gently. 

“I know,” said Nile. She pushed herself up onto her elbows; Nicky and Joe reached to support her weight and she accepted the help with a grateful sigh. It was nice to be able to move so soon after getting turned into mincemeat, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t _painful_. “I know what a dream is, Joe. I just — it felt different. Like something changed.”

“Sometimes a dream is just a dream,” said Andy. Nile jumped, then groaned as some internal injury made itself known. Shadowed in the doorway, Andy seemed almost ghostly in the dim light. 

“Sometimes it’s _not_ ,” said Nile. “I know what a dream is like. This was — coherent. Not just images. I think it was really her.”

Andy shook her head, but Nile hadn’t expected her belief off the bat. 

“I think we all need some sleep,” said Joe, reasonably. He glanced at Nicky, who raised an eyebrow and frowned just slightly. 

Nile sighed. She did feel tired, was the thing. Whatever the dream had been, it clearly hadn’t been fucking _restful_. “I’ll take a nap,” she agreed. “But I want you all to hear me out, okay? I know I’m your baby or whatever but — you’ve always trusted me to know my shit. It’s why I love you.”

Nicky nodded, and rose to follow Joe to their bed, hands already tangled together. 

Andy didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything as she crossed the room, limping slightly, or when she lay down beside Nile on the narrow bed and cradled her close, arms around Nile’s shoulders. She didn’t say anything when she pressed her face into the nape of Nile’s neck and took one deep breath after another. She didn’t have to.

_She misses you_ , thought Nile, pulling Andy’s arms closer around her chest. _She misses you more than anyone._

**Author's Note:**

> while i completely understand and support the potential for traumatised antagonist quynh, i also just want everyone to get along and given how little we know about how the Dreams work i thought - what if nile met quynh for real before quynh got out. and there was some minor lesbian activity! but that's secondary to quynh getting a fucking hug, which i will give her if no one else will
> 
> i have no familiarity with the comics, but please lmk if there's any lesbionic content because if so i will be launching myself to the library's click and collect feature!
> 
> dream journeying here is lightly inspired by a scene in whispers under ground by ben aaronovitch where the mc gets buried under oxford circus and has a weird dream/spirit journey with some river gods. you should read rivers of london incidentally it's very good
> 
> twitter/tumblr @dotsayers, having an old guard breakdown 
> 
> title from the whistler by mary oliver


End file.
